


Like Heaven Above

by TheWeirdDane



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blasphemy, F/M, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Priest Kink, Priests, incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/pseuds/TheWeirdDane
Summary: In the confessional, you confide in the priest and open yourself to him. Only, the priest may not be what he seems...
Relationships: Priest/Original Female Character(s), Priest/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	1. Female Reader

**Author's Note:**

> Don't read too much into this little piece of filth - it's pure fantasy :D  
> 1st chapter: Female reader  
> 2nd chapter: Male reader

As the beads snare around your hands, you wonder how you got yourself into this situation; it had all started out so innocently in the confessional. 

The priest on one side of the cabinet, you on the other, separated only by a thin wall with a little window, the glass riddled with diagonal lines. The entire thing is made of thick, polished mahogany wood, and despite being cumbersome, it could be moved if need be. 

On your side is a seat and a little step on which to kneel. The ‘door’ is nothing more than a heavy, purple curtain, whereas the priest’s door is an actual, wooden door, naturally matching the rest of the structure. 

“Father,” you speak, leaned back against the back of the cabinet, and look down at your feet, “Father, how may I be granted salvation for my sins?” Your voice trembles just the faintest bit, and you keep your hands locked tightly together in prayer. 

“Speak, my child, and speak freely of that which burdens you. God in Heaven is listening.” His voice is smooth and soft, warm and kind, and you can almost  _ hear _ the gentle smile on his lips. 

Nervously rolling your lower lip between your teeth, you heave a heavy sigh and open your eyes, turning your gaze towards the little window. The priest is nowhere to be seen. 

“Father, I… I have lain with a man.” You take a long break, not sure how much or how little you should say – you have no idea how confessions work, this is your first one ever! And given that you have now reached twenty summers, that’s a pretty good streak. 

So many of your friends had laughed at you for having had your first sexual encounter at twenty years old – many of them had lost their virginity at eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, and younger still. But not you. It’s not a question of waiting till marriage – though your parents certainly think that fitting and only appropriate – but merely a question of timing. 

“Go on, sweet child, God and I are listening.”

You start wringing your hands nervously. A few joints crack from the pressure.

“How… how much should I tell? What is too much, and what is too little?”

A short break. 

“Fret not, I will tell you when enough is enough,” he says and leans forward just enough that you can see his face through the small window. He has delicate features, with a wide nose and kind, smiling eyes in the color of a summer sky free of clouds. His lips look soft and delectable, a light pink. 

“It was… a few weeks ago,” you begin, casting your gaze downward at the floor. You find that it is almost clinically clean, only carrying the marks of your boots. 

“He invited me over, asking if I could help with his homework. Naturally, I said yes. I like helping where I can. And for a good few hours, that  _ was _ all that we did, going over algebra and calculus and studying for a test we have next week. But... then he starts touching my hand. Not to borrow my pen, no, but just to… stroke it.”

You unwring your hands to trace the fingers of your left hand over the skin of your right hand, like he had done. It wasn’t the same, far from. There was no spark, no jolt running down your spine, nothing that lead to the hastening breathing and quickening heartbeat. 

“And how did you react?”

“I looked at him, wonder and surprise most likely written on my face, for he laughed and told me not to worry, that he wouldn’t tell anyone what we were up to.”

The priest nods, his blonde hair bobbing up and down with the motion. 

“And did he?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.”

“Did you truly enjoy it when you laid with him?”

You feel a blush spread across your cheeks, and you swallow heavily, something thick that won’t go down easily, making you try again before you can answer. 

“Yes.”

“Then I see no reason why it should be a sin,” the priest says almost immediately and turns his head, so you can see his face better, “God made us in His picture. If He didn’t intend for us to come together in love and or desire, He wouldn’t have made it so that we do.”

A wave of relief crashes over you. You didn’t know you had been holding your breath, and you let it out in a long, loud sigh. Your heart feels lighter almost instantaneously after he speaks those words, and when he continues, you hang on to every word. 

“Some say that sex is pure desire, some say that it’s pure love. But God says that it’s a combination of the two, that with love comes sex, and with sex comes love. Do you love this man?”

Your heart starts pounding again, this time somewhere near your throat. Do you love him? ‘Love’ is such a strong word… Is he really deserving of that? For all you know, it had been a rump in the hay for him. But was it really anything more for you? Could you honestly say that it had meant something?

“Is it a sin if I don’t?”

Your voice is soft, feeble, yet it echoes in the small confessional. The priest smiles.

“I wouldn’t say so. But if you keep making love to him, and if you do not disclose that you are not seeking a relationship, it gets close.”

You shake your head firmly. No, you won’t do that to him! He’s a sweet guy, doesn’t deserve to have his heart stomped on like that. 

“I won’t do that, Father.”

“That’s good, child. Was there anything more?”

Once more, you shake your head. No, there isn’t anything more to discuss. 

“No, Father.” 

The priest nods and stands up so you can see his black cassock with the typical thirty-nine buttons. You know you’ve been told why there’s thirty-nine, but you can’t remember. 

The door on his side opens and closes, and you sit in solitude for a few seconds before the curtain to your side opens. It surprises you when he stands right outside, holding open the curtain. He smiles, and that smile could send you far, far away in dream land. Those perfectly white teeth in two perfect rows. His cream-colored skin and lush, blonde hair curling just beneath his ears, framing his strong features and sharp jawline elegantly. His heavenly blue eyes that crinkle when he smiles. 

You have seen this priest before, you realize. Not many times, but whenever your parents go to church and they insist that you come with them. His name, however, eludes you. 

As you start to get up, he shakes his head and steps inside your side of the confessional. It’s a small space, so when he steps inside, there’s almost no room to move around. 

“Father, what are you doing?” You may not be very knowledgeable about how confessions work, but you’re very certain that the priest and the confessor aren’t supposed to see each other, let alone be in the same space. 

He just keeps smiling and pulls the curtain closed behind him. You back up against the back of the confessional, not sure what is going on, and not sure if you should find it as interesting – the proper word would be  _ arousing _ , but that would be wrong – as you did. 

“Uhm, Father, I think you should---” You stop as he puts a hand on your knee, his smile reaching his eyes and making them twinkle, small wrinkles appearing on either side of his eyes. 

“I should what, child?” he asks, but the words elude you, and you instead just look up at him, lips slightly parted and eyes wide open. He chuckles – and oh God, what a delightful, heartwarming sound! – and places his other hand on your face, thumb resting on your lips to pull them further apart. 

It must look ridiculous, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t into it. 

“N-nothing,” you mumble and look down, but when the priest clicks his tongue, you almost obediently look up at him again. He chuckles at that, and you could have sworn that your heart skips a beat. 

His hand on your knee slowly, ever so slowly, slides further up your leg, sneaking under your skirt and reaching your thigh and making you suppress a shiver, but unable to hold back a soft sigh.

About halfway to your crotch, he slides his hand to your inner thigh and makes you squirm in your seat, eliciting a loud yet soft laughter from him. You blush again, terrified that someone might hear him – or you, if this keeps going for much longer. You’re not stupid, you know what is going on and what’s to come.

“Father, you shouldn’t---” But once more, your words die on your tongue as he presses his fingertips against the seam of your leggings, pushing it right against your aching cunt. 

“Isn’t this… wrong?” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse from the arousal coursing through your body. He shakes his head.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes.” You don’t even have to think about it – you want this, and it’s clear he wants it too. His fingers rub insistently against your crotch, and your throat is suddenly very dry, your tongue feels like a piece of sandpaper. 

“Then it’s no sin, then it’s not wrong,” he hushes and withdraws his hand to undo his cassock. He only opens it enough for you to see a shiny leather belt before that, too, is stripped away, and he pulls out his hard cock with a throaty grunt. 

The sound goes straight to your cunt, and you squeeze your legs together in the hope that it can quench the thirst you’re feeling. 

But no such luck.

The priest – you really ought to ask his name – strokes himself a few times while watching you before motioning for you to get up. You do as asked, and he takes your seat. 

“Now, my child, get on your knees and show me what else your mouth is good for, aside from speaking filthy confessions,” he says and looks up at you, eyes twinkling and taking your breath away. 

“Yes, Father.”

There’s a sick, sick feeling of pleasure coursing through you as he says ‘my child’ and you say ‘Father’, and it shouldn’t be that arousing, but here you are, on your knees in a confessional, about to suck off the priest you had just confided in. 

You press your lips against his cock repeatedly, relishing in the sighs he lets out. His hand touches your hair, digging into the strands and sliding through them before grabbing a fistful and tugging your head back. You gasp and look at him through slightly hooded eyes, your lips somewhat parted to let out a pitiful whine. 

“What do you wish for, my child?”

“Please, Father,” and just by uttering that word, a jolt of arousal goes through you, and you’re helpless but to moan, just a little, before continuing your sentence, “I want your divinity.”

“Beg for it, if you want it so badly.”

You blush again – you hate begging, can’t stand it. But the arousal in your blood, in your muscles, in your very  _ bones,  _ commands you to.

For the first few seconds, you don’t react. It’s not until he seems to lose interest that you open your mouth again, this time with a plethora of pleas falling from your lips. 

“Please, Father, I want to taste the divinity of you, of your cock, of everything you have to give me. I want to feel you inside me, please, in my mouth, in my… in my c-cunt. I want all of you, and I can’t wait. Please, Father.”

It seems to appease him, for he lets go of your hair and instead places his hands on his thighs, waiting for you to go to work. 

And you don’t dawdle. 

You use one hand to squeeze his balls carefully, your other hand resting on his thigh, while your lips wrap around the throbbing cock and you pull the most divine sounds from the man towering above you. 

“That’s it, my child, that’s what God would want you to do,” he breathes out, barely more than a gruff whisper, and he moves a hand into your hair again, this time gently stroking through the soft strands. 

You withdraw from the cock just long enough to moan “Thank you, Father,” before you’re back on his throbbing member, hollowing out your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down. 

His fingers tighten in your hair, and you moan around his cock, eliciting a long groan as he bucks his hips upwards to fill your mouth and part of your throat. You nearly choke, gagging on the suddenly intruding object, and he pulls you away to let you catch your breath.

“Everything good, filthy little infidel?” 

Your eyes go wide, your jaw slack, and you look up at him. 

“W-wha---”

He laughs, a loud, booming sound that fills the entire confessional, and more, resonating in the church. 

“Do you really think that is proper faith? To lay with your priest? That, my child, is indeed very sinful. For you and me both.”

Your heart most definitely skips a beat at that, and your cunt throbs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how wet you are. 

He continues.

“You will never get redemption, nor will you ever reach salvation. Absolution won’t ever be bestowed upon you.” 

“Father, please---” you whisper, and you find yourself squeezing your thighs together once more, but even so, you feel the wetness between your thighs. There’s a lot of it. 

“What do you ask of me, child? To lay with you? To risk the power invested in me by Christ?”

Now, that was just unfair! He had begun it all! 

You’re about to point this out to him, but he’s faster, and just as you open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind, he opens his and speaks. 

“Did you really think me a normal priest? Foolish little human.”

Now your arousal has dulled considerably, and confusion has taken its place. 

“What do you mean? You’re starting to scare me, Father.”

As you speak, you pull away and try to withdraw, but he snatches your wrist and keeps you close. Suddenly, his figure, his very form, starts shimmering. 

His hands turn into something more resembling long talons at the end of skeletal fingers, the skin turning a faintly glistening, coal-ish black. Two bumps appear on his forehead, and without warning, they expand into thick and long horns that curl in on themselves, like a ram’s. They’re ribbed and curvilinear, with tips that look like they could puncture skin. 

He stands up and seems to grow taller, until his cassock doesn’t touch the ground anymore. Beneath the hem, you catch a glimpse of something black and clawed. There’s a low whistle through the air, and your eyes find a long, spiked tail sneaking up behind the priest, going slowly from side to side. 

You fix your eyes back on his face and see that that, too, has changed into that of a monster. His eyes are red and wide, his mouth full of sharp, serrated, and pointy teeth glistening with saliva. 

A gasp escapes you as you watch him change, and when he’s done turning into… whatever it is he’s changed into, you clamp a hand over your mouth, stifling another sharply drawn breath. 

“What are you?” you finally whisper. When he speaks, it’s with a much rougher and gruffer voice than you have heard him use before. 

“Do you not know? Foolish little human,” and he laughs, a raw and terrifying sound that sends chills down your spine and makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. 

“I won’t even bother to tell you; your puny brain couldn’t comprehend the magnificence of my existence.” 

And with that, his hand yanks you forward, making you stumble and fall against his chest. He’s now a few heads taller than you, and you have to bend your head back to see his face properly.

He leans down to press your lips together, and at first, you don’t want to, but there’s something about his mouth, about the kiss, that spurs you on. You press into the kiss, even moan a little, and wonder what has gotten into you. 

His lips are warm and soft, the breath mingling with yours, and he hums into the kiss, the tail snaking around you to press you firmer against him. 

“Please, l-let me go,” you whisper, but the longer the kiss lasts, the less you  _ actually _ want to go. It’s almost like there’s something on his lips that makes you  _ like _ it. 

“Is that what you really want?” And God help you, his voice makes your cunt ache in the best of ways. 

“I… I don’t… I don’t know.” 

The answer comes when he pulls away – a whine escapes you, and you lean forward to catch his lips with yours again. 

He laughs once more, complies, and kisses you passionately back, his tail squeezing you against him. His hands wander to your ass, gripping it tightly and making you gasp before pressing into his body, into his hands, or claws, or whatever they are. 

At the moment, you can’t be bothered to care – all you know is that you crave his touch.

Luckily for you, his hands start drifting all over your body – from your ass to your hips to your waist to your ass again before finally settling in your hair and yanking your head backwards. 

You moan and close your eyes. In the darkness, you can hear his rough breathing, and you can feel his lips and serrated teeth on your neck, and you can’t hold back a sharply drawn breath. The sharp edges drag along your skin, and a shiver runs through you. Then, without any warning, they dig into your neck, and you let out a loud gasp, squirming in his grip but not trying to get away. 

“Oh, Father,” you whisper before you can stop yourself, and it makes the creature laugh again, another booming, hideous sound that sends chills down your spine. 

“That is not what I am, but if you wish to call me that, I shan’t stop you. It seems to get your blood flowing,” he adds the last sentence with a grin that shows off rows upon rows of sharp and jagged teeth, and for the fourth time that day, you feel heat rushing to your cheeks. 

He lifts his hands to the string of beads around his neck, squeezes the little ornament of Jesus Christ on the cross, and takes it off. Then his tail is gone from your body, and he shoves you towards the small seat. 

“Bend over like a good, obedient girl.” 

And for whatever reasons, you find that you’re more than eager to obey. It’s like a wave of fog has washed over your mind – it feels fuzzy and cloudy, and it’s like you’re not controlling your body. Not that it’s unpleasant; it actually feels really nice. It feels like you’re void of feelings and thoughts, there’s nothing at all to worry about, to burden your mind with. 

So, you do just that – you spread your legs to get a better stance and stretch out your hands on the small seat. Somewhere, far, far past the fogginess, your brain notes that this can’t be the most pleasant position to be fucked in, but you don’t care, don’t have it in you to care anymore. 

Then you feel his long, skeletal fingers on your arms, tugging them back, and you obey without a second thought. A few seconds later, cold wood is snared around your hands, and you slowly turn your head to look at the monster. 

He’s grinning widely, flashing the many rows of predator-like teeth, and you see that he’s tying the rosary beads around your wrists. For some reason, you don’t find anything wrong with the action, simply let him do it while humming softly and swaying lightly from side to side. 

Next, he unzips your short, black skirt and tugs it down around your ankles. Your leggings he makes short work of when he rips them, just enough to allow him to touch your awfully aching cunt through your lace underwear. 

Faintly, you hear yourself moan, a throaty sound easily rolling past your lips, and you turn your head back to rest it against the back of the confessional. 

“Good girl, obeying so easily and enjoying my ministrations so much. How much do you like it, how much do you want what you know comes next?”

You know that you speak, but it sounds like it comes from far away, like your mouth is full of cotton, or perhaps like you’re under water.

“I want it so much, Father. Please, give it to me, I’m begging you, please.” The words seem slow and drawn-out to you, but they seem to appease the priest-turned-monster. 

At least if you are to judge by his next action – tearing your underwear as easily as nothing. 

Chilly air rolls against your naked, exposed cunt, and you inhale sharply. Then there’s something warm and firm pressing against your most vulnerable place, and you sigh in contentment, pushing back against the touch.

You haven’t been touched there in so long. You long for the monster to touch you more, to quench the overarching thirst in your heart and the dull ache between your legs. 

And Heavens yes, he does. His talons slide over your cunt, the tips dragging against your clit and making you see stars, warmth spreading throughout your body. You’re vaguely aware that you moan again, and there’s a low chuckle behind you before he speaks again. 

“You’re so wet, my sweet little child,” another jolt of arousal rushes through you, “I wonder how long you’ve been longing for me to touch you.”

“Forever,” you find yourself whispering, and your eyes fall shut; you can just barely hold yourself standing, so much pleasure washing over you. 

He chuckles again, a low and unexpectedly hearty sound that makes a wide, lazy smile drape itself over your face; you didn’t even know he could make such a sound. 

“Then how about I get a move on?”

You nod slowly.

“Yes, Father, please, I need you to fill me like only you can.”

“Who am I to deny a prayer so true and faithful?” 

Not two seconds later, the priest-turned-monster seizes your hip with one clawed hand while the other presses something warm and thick against your cunt. You sigh expectantly and spread your legs wider, eager for him to continue.

He does continue; his cock slides inside you, and he lets out a throaty growl that sends a jolt through you. It’s rough and ribbed, thick as a forearm and with small bumps and ridges. The tip is pointy, not rounded like a normal human’s, and hurts slightly when he suddenly slams all the way inside, bottoming out within you. 

You let out a pain-pleasure cry as he does so, but before long, the pain subsides to make way for pleasure, washing over you in aggressive waves. That’s the only thing you feel through the fuzziness of your mind; overwhelming bliss and delight. 

“Oh Lord above, you feel good,” he snarls –  _ snarls _ – and rubs against you where you’re joined by the hips. His cock twitches inside you, and it’s like you can feel each little motion, each little twitch and throb and jerk. 

“Father,” you gasp and push back against him, eager if not outright  _ desperate _ for him to continue. You turn your head to look at him, and you see his tail swinging from side to side, see his face contorted in concentration as he starts thrusting. Yet somehow, the toothy grin never disappears. 

At first, it’s a gentle and easy pace that makes your head spin and your heart ache in the best of ways. It’s painful as your cunt stretches to accommodate his every thrust, but it doesn’t take long before the pain makes way for pleasure, and you moan out loudly with each powerful move of his hips. 

But as the minutes tick by, he increases the pace to one that is hard, fast, and rough. With your hands tied, you can’t reach for the seat’s edge to keep your balance, and you’re bound to hope that the priest has everything under control. 

“Sweet, sweet child, do you know how tight you are?”

“W-Well,” you gasp, each thrust jolting you and making it hard to speak, “I have o-only been with one man, n-not counting you!” 

“Good, because I am no man,” he grins and smacks your ass, the sound echoing in the small space and forcing you to let out a loud, sharp moan that has you blushing  _ again _ . If nothing else, this priest sure could get your blood flowing. 

A man he sure isn’t, but that doesn’t stop his ministrations from being so arousing and amazing that you for a second think they might kill you. 

But they don’t, and you’re helpless in the face of such pleasure, and it doesn’t take much longer before a familiar tightness appears in your lower stomach. You may have only been with a man once, but you do know what pleasure is, and you do know what it feels like. 

And this is it. 

The tightness in your stomach, the warm fluid trickling down your thighs, the quickening of your breath. The cock pounding your petite cunt like there’s no tomorrow, making your knees weak. The hand moving over your clit, nails dragging over the swollen, glistening bud to make you inhale sharply and then cry out in pleasure when the orgasm crashes over you with such force that the monster must keep you upright as he fucks you. 

His other hand snakes into your hair and yanks your head back to expose your throat and, you suspect, to keep you upright. He then sinks his sharp, serrated teeth deep into your neck, and you feel blood flowing almost instantaneously. 

A gasp escapes you, and then a moan as he sucks up the blood, a long, warm, and soft tongue licking over your skin. 

You feel light as a feather for a few, wonderfully blissful seconds, then it feels like your body is replaced by a sack of lead. Had it not been for the monster, you would have slumped forward into the back of the confessional. But because the monster is there, you don’t – instead you’re held up in your arms at an unpleasant angle, but you’re so out of breath you can’t complain. 

As the aftershocks of the orgasm subsides, you become aware of how rough and powerful the pace has become, how merciless and unforgiving, and you choke out pain-laced whimpers with each thrust, but it also feels so good that you don’t know which leg to stand on. 

“F-Father, p-please, harder, harder,” you beg, not sure he even  _ can _ go harder, but as if with divine intervention, he actually does go harder, and you swear to God, it feels like you’re tearing in half. 

Not that it’s a bad feeling. 

“Sweet, sweet child, I’m going to come in you, fill you with my seed. Are you ready for that?” His voice doesn’t as much as quiver despite the strong and relentless thrusts that must be jolting his body. 

“Yes, Father, please come in me, fill me with your cum!” 

“Filthy degenerate,” he grunts and comes. Hot, sticky cum shoots inside you, so much of it that it immediately drips out of you again, and he keeps thrusting relentlessly, trying so desperately to keep his cum inside you. 

You gasp loudly, even letting out pain-pleasure moans and cries as he fucks you through his orgasm. The last few thrusts are incredibly hard and fast before he finally slows down, giving you time to take a breather. 

As he slows down, you finally start feeling the strain on your body – you tremble all over, and your breathing comes out in short and sharp, raspy puffs of air. 

The monster slowly pulls out of you, and as he does, you feel cum seep out and down your thighs, making you shiver and a chill run down your spine. 

There’s silence for a little while where the demon tucks himself back in his pants and cassock, buttoning the buttons again, and then tugs your skirt up to cover your nether regions. 

When he speaks, it’s with a honeyed warm and soothing voice that seems almost too lovely to be true. You turn your head and see that the horns have disappeared, and so have the tail and long talons. His teeth are back to normal, you see, when he grins and leans forward to kiss you. 

As soon as his lips touch yours, the fogginess disappears from your mind, leaving you with a clear head. You eagerly kiss him back, your lips moving easily together as the kiss turns deep and passionate. 

“Heavenly Father, thank you,” you whisper, and the priest lets out a low chuckle, his teeth dragging over your lower lip. 

“You’re most welcome, my child.”


	2. Male Reader

As the beads snare around your hands, you wonder how you got yourself into this situation; it had all started out so innocently in the confessional. 

The priest on one side of the cabinet, you on the other, separated only by a thin wall with a little window, the glass riddled with diagonal lines. The entire thing is made of thick, polished mahogany wood, and despite being cumbersome, it could be moved if need be. 

On your side is a seat and a little step on which to kneel. The ‘door’ is nothing more than a heavy, purple curtain, whereas the priest’s door is an actual, wooden door, naturally matching the rest of the structure. 

“Father,” you speak, leaned back against the back of the cabinet, and look down at your feet, “Father, how may I be granted salvation for my sins?” Your voice trembles just the faintest bit, and you keep your hands locked tightly together in prayer. 

“Speak, my child, and speak freely of that which burdens you. God in Heaven is listening.” His voice is smooth and soft, warm and kind, and you can almost  _ hear _ the gentle smile on his lips. 

Nervously rolling your lower lip between your teeth, you heave a heavy sigh and open your eyes, turning your gaze towards the little window. The priest is nowhere to be seen. 

“Father, I… I have lain with a man.” You take a long break, not sure how much or how little you should say – you have no idea how confessions work, this is your first one ever! And given that you have now reached twenty summers, that’s a pretty good streak. 

So many of your friends have laughed at you for having had your first sexual encounter at twenty years old – many of them had lost their virginity at eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, and younger still. But not you. It’s not a question of waiting till marriage – though your parents certainly think that fitting and only appropriate – but merely a question of timing. 

“Go on, sweet child, God and I are listening.”

You start wringing your hands nervously. A few joints crack from the pressure.

“How… how much should I tell? What is too much, and what is too little?”

A short break. 

“Fret not, I will tell you when enough is enough,” he says and leans forward just enough that you can see his face through the small window. He has delicate features, with a wide nose and kind, smiling eyes in the color of a summer sky free of clouds. His lips look soft and delectable, a light pink. 

“It was… a few weeks ago,” you begin, casting your gaze downward at the floor. You find it almost clinically clean, only carrying the marks of your boots. 

“He invited me over, asking if I could help with his homework. Naturally, I said yes. I like helping where I can. And for a good few hours, that  _ was _ all that we did, going over algebra and calculus and studying for a test we have next week. But... then he starts touching my hand. Not to borrow my pen, no, but just to… stroke it.”

You unclasp your hands to trace the fingers of your left hand over the skin of your right hand, like he had done. It wasn’t the same, far from. There was no spark, no jolt running down your spine, nothing that led to the hastening breathing and quickening heartbeat. 

“And how did you react?”

“I looked at him, wonder and surprise most likely written on my face, for he laughed and told me not to worry, that he wouldn’t tell anyone what we were up to.”

The priest nods, his blonde hair bobbing up and down with the motion. 

“And did he?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.”

“Did you truly enjoy it when you laid with him?”

You feel a blush spread across your cheeks, and you swallow heavily, something thick that won’t go down easily, making you try again before you can answer. 

“Yes.”

“Then I see no reason why it should be a sin,” the priest says almost immediately and turns his head, so you can see his face better, “God made us in His picture. If He didn’t intend for us to come together in love and or desire, He wouldn’t have made it so that we would.”

A wave of relief crashes over you. You didn’t know you had been holding your breath, and you let it out in a long, loud sigh. Your heart feels lighter almost instantaneously after he speaks those words, and when he continues, you hang on to every one of them. 

“Some say that sex is pure desire, some say that it’s pure love. But God says that it’s a combination of the two, that with love comes sex, and with sex comes love. Do you love this man?”

Your heart starts pounding again, this time somewhere near your throat. Do you love him? ‘Love’ is such a strong word… Is he really deserving of that, deserving of your heart? For all you know, it had been a rump in the hay for him. But was it really anything more for you? Could you honestly say that it had meant something?

“Is it a sin if I don’t?”

Your voice is soft, feeble, yet it echoes in the small confessional. The priest smiles.

“I wouldn’t say so. But if you keep making love to him, and if you do not disclose that you are not seeking a relationship, it gets close.”

You shake your head firmly. No, you won’t do that to him! He’s a sweet guy, doesn’t deserve to have his heart stomped on like that. 

“I won’t do that, Father.”

“That’s good, child. Is there anything more?”

Once more, you shake your head. No, there isn’t anything more to discuss. 

“No, Father.” 

The priest nods and stands up so you can see his black cassock with the typical thirty-nine buttons. You know you’ve been told why there’s thirty-nine, but you can’t remember. 

The door on his side opens and closes, and you sit in solitude for a few seconds before the curtain to your side opens. It surprises you when he stands right outside, holding open the curtain. He smiles, and that smile could send you far, far away in dream land. Those perfectly white teeth in two perfect rows. His cream-colored skin and lush, blonde hair curling just beneath his ears, framing his strong features and sharp jawline elegantly. His heavenly blue eyes that crinkle when he smiles. 

You have seen this priest before, you realize. Not many times, but whenever your parents go to church and they insist that you come with them. His name, however, eludes you. 

As you start to get up, he shakes his head and steps inside your side of the confessional. It’s a small space, so when he steps inside, there’s almost no room to move around. 

“Father, what are you doing?” You may not be very knowledgeable about how confessions work, but you’re very certain that the priest and the confessor aren’t supposed to see each other, let alone be in the same space. 

He just keeps smiling and pulls the curtain closed behind him. You back up against the back of the confessional, not sure what is going on, and not sure if you should find it as interesting – the proper word would be  _ arousing _ , but that would be  _ wrong _ – as you did. 

“Uh, Father, I think you should---” You stop as he puts a hand on your knee, his smile reaching his eyes and making them twinkle, small wrinkles appearing on either side of his eyes. 

“I should what, child?” he asks, but the words elude you, and you instead just look up at him, lips slightly parted and eyes wide open. He chuckles – and oh God, what a delightful, heartwarming sound! – and places his other hand on your face, thumb resting on your lips to pull them further apart. 

It must look ridiculous, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t into it. 

“N-nothing,” you mumble and look down, but when the priest clicks his tongue, you almost obediently look up at him again. He chuckles at that, and you could have sworn that your heart skips a beat. 

His hand on your knee slowly, ever so slowly, slides further up your leg to reach your thigh and makes you shiver, unable to hold back a soft sigh. 

About halfway to your crotch, he slides his hand to your inner thigh and makes you squirm in your seat, eliciting a loud yet soft laughter from him. You blush again, terrified that someone might hear him – or you, if this keeps going for much longer. You’re not stupid, you know what is going on and what’s to come.

“Father, you shouldn’t---” But once more, your words die on your tongue as he presses his fingertips against the seam of your jeans, pushing the fabric right against your quickly hardening cock. 

“Isn’t this… wrong?” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse from the arousal coursing through your body. He shakes his head.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes.” You don’t even have to think about it – you want this, and it’s clear he wants it too. His fingers rub insistently against your crotch, and your throat is suddenly very dry while your tongue feels like a piece of sandpaper. 

“Then it’s no sin, then it’s not wrong,” he hushes and withdraws his hand to undo his cassock. He only opens it enough for you to see a shiny leather belt before that, too, is stripped away, and he pulls out his hard cock with a throaty grunt.

The sound goes straight to your own dick, making it twitch lightly, and you squeeze your legs together in the hopes that it can quench the thirst you’re feeling.

But no such luck.

The priest – you really ought to ask his name – strokes himself a few times while watching you before motioning for you to get up. You do as you’re asked, and he takes your seat. 

“Now, my child, get on your knees and show me what else your mouth is good for, aside from speaking filthy confessions,” he says and looks up at you, eyes twinkling and taking your breath away. 

“Yes, Father.”

There’s a sick, sick feeling of pleasure coursing through you as he says ‘my child’ and you say ‘Father’, and it shouldn’t be that arousing, but here you are, on your knees in a confessional, about to suck off the priest you had just confided in. 

You press your lips against his cock repeatedly, relishing the sighs he makes. His hand touches your hair, digging into the strands and sliding through them before grabbing a fistful and tugging your head back. You gasp and look at him through slightly hooded eyes, your lips somewhat parted to let out a pitiful whine. 

“What do you wish for, my child?”

“Please, Father,” and just by uttering that word, a jolt of arousal goes through you, and you’re helpless but to moan, just a little, before continuing your sentence, “I want your divinity.”

“Beg for it, if you want it so badly.”

You blush again – you hate begging, can’t stand it. But the arousal in your blood, in your muscles, in your very  _ bones,  _ commands you to.

For the first few seconds, you don’t react. It’s not until he seems to lose interest that you open your mouth again, this time with a plethora of pleas falling from your lips. 

“Please, Father, I want to taste the divinity of you, of your cock, of everything you have to give me. I want to feel you inside me, please, in my mouth, in my… in my ass. I want all of you, and I can’t wait. Please, Father.”

It seems to appease him, for he lets go of your hair and instead places his hands on his thighs, waiting for you to get to work. 

And you don’t dawdle. 

You use one hand to squeeze his balls carefully, your other hand resting on his thigh, while your lips wrap around the throbbing cock and you pull the most divine sounds from the man towering above you. 

“That’s it, my child, that’s what God would want you to do,” he breathes out, barely more than a gruff whisper, and he moves a hand into your hair again, this time gently stroking through the soft strands. 

You withdraw from the cock just long enough to moan “Thank you, Father,” before you’re back on his throbbing member, hollowing out your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down. 

His fingers tighten in your hair, and you moan around his cock, eliciting a long groan as he bucks his hips upwards to fill your mouth and part of your throat. You nearly choke, gagging on the suddenly intruding object, and he pulls you away to let you catch your breath.

“Everything good,  _ filthy little infidel _ ?” 

Your eyes go wide, your jaw slack, and you look up at him. 

“W-wha---”

He laughs, a loud, booming sound that fills the entire confessional, and more, resonating in the church. 

“Do you really think that is proper faith? To lay with your priest? That, my child, is indeed very sinful. For you and me both.”

Your heart most definitely skips a beat at that, and your cock throbs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how hard you are. 

He continues.

“You will never get redemption, nor will you ever reach salvation. Absolution won’t ever be bestowed upon you.” 

“Father, please---” you whisper, and you find yourself squeezing your thighs together once more, but it doesn’t help the throbbing in your cock. 

“What do you ask of me, child? To lay with you? To risk the power invested in me by Christ, by God Himself?”

Now, that was just unfair! He had begun it all! 

You’re about to point this out to him, but he’s faster, and just as you open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind, he opens his and speaks. 

“Did you really think I was a normal priest? Foolish little human.”

Now your arousal has dulled considerably, and confusion has taken its place. 

“What do you mean? You’re starting to scare me, Father.”

As you speak, you pull away and try to withdraw, but he snatches your wrist and keeps you close. Suddenly, his figure, his very form, starts shimmering. 

His hands turn into something more resembling long talons at the end of skeletal fingers, the skin turning a faintly glistening, coal-black. Two bumps appear on his forehead, and without warning, they expand into thick and long horns that curl in on themselves, like a ram’s. They’re ribbed and curvilinear, with tips that look like they could puncture skin. 

He stands up and seems to grow taller, until his cassock doesn’t touch the ground anymore. Beneath the hem, you catch a glimpse of something black and clawed. There’s a low whistle through the air, and your eyes find a long, spiked tail sneaking up behind the priest, going slowly from side to side. 

You fix your eyes back on his face and see that this, too, has changed into that of a monster. His eyes are red and wide, his mouth full of sharp, serrated, and pointy teeth glistening with saliva. 

A gasp escapes you as you watch him change, and when he’s done turning into… whatever it is he’s changed into, you clamp a hand over your mouth, stifling another sharply drawn breath. 

“What are you?” you finally whisper. When he speaks, it’s with a much rougher and gruffer voice than you have heard him use before. 

“Do you not know? Foolish little human,” and he laughs, a raw and terrifying sound that sends chills down your spine and makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. 

“I won’t even bother to tell you; your puny brain couldn’t comprehend the magnificence of my existence.” 

And with that, his hand yanks you forward, making you stumble and fall against his chest. He’s now a few heads taller than you, and you have to bend your head back to see his face properly.

He leans down to press your lips together, and at first, you don’t want to, but there’s something about his mouth, about the kiss, that spurs you on. You press into the kiss, even moan a little, and wonder what has gotten into you. 

His lips are warm and soft, the breath mingling with yours, and he hums into the kiss, the tail snaking around you to press you firmer against him. 

“Please, l-let me go,” you whisper, but the longer the kiss lasts, the less you  _ want _ to go. It’s almost like there’s something on his lips that makes you  _ like _ it. 

“Is that what you really want?” And God help you, his voice makes your cock twitch and ache in the best of ways.

“I… I don’t… I don’t know.” 

The answer comes when he pulls away – a whine escapes you, and you lean forward to catch his lips with yours again. 

He laughs once more, complies, and kisses you passionately back, his tail squeezing you against him. His hands wander to your ass, gripping it tightly and making you gasp before pressing into his body, into his hands, or claws, or whatever they are. 

At the moment, you can’t be bothered to care – all you know is that you crave his touch.

Luckily for you, his hands start drifting all over your body – from your ass to your hips to your waist to your ass again before finally settling in your hair and yanking your head backwards. 

You moan and close your eyes. In the darkness, you can hear his rough breathing, and you can feel his lips and serrated teeth on your neck, and you can’t hold back a sharply drawn breath. The sharp edges drag along your skin, and a shiver runs through you. Then, without any warning, they dig into your neck, and you let out a loud gasp, squirming in his grip but not trying to get away. 

“Oh, Father,” you whisper before you can stop yourself, and it makes the creature laugh again, another booming, hideous sound that sends chills down your spine. 

“That is not what I am, but if you wish to call me that, I shan’t stop you. It seems to get your blood flowing,” he adds the last sentence with a nearly audible grin. You open your eyes again to peer down at him, and you see that his grin shows off rows upon rows of sharp and jagged teeth, and for the fourth time that day, you feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

He lifts his hands to the string of beads around his neck, squeezes the little ornament of Jesus Christ on the cross, and takes it off. Then his tail is gone from your body, and he shoves you towards the small seat. 

“Bend over like a good, obedient boy.” 

And for whatever reasons, you find that you’re more than eager to obey. It’s like a wave of fog has washed over your mind – it feels fuzzy and cloudy, and it’s like you’re not controlling your body. Not that it’s unpleasant; it actually feels really nice. It feels like you’re void of feelings and thoughts, there’s nothing at all to worry about, to burden your mind with. 

So, you do just that – you spread your legs to get a better stance and stretch out your hands on the small seat. Somewhere, far, far past the fogginess, your brain notes that this can’t be the most pleasant position to be fucked in, but you don’t care, don’t have it in you to care anymore. 

Then you feel his long, skeletal fingers on your arms, tugging them back, and you obey without a second thought. A few seconds later, cold wood is snared around your hands, and you slowly turn your head to look at the monster. 

He’s grinning widely, flashing the many rows of predator-like teeth, and you see that he’s tying the rosary beads around your wrists. For some reason, you don’t find anything wrong with the action, simply let him do it while humming softly and swaying slightly from side to side. 

Next, he reaches around to undo your pants and drag them down around your ankles, and the feeling of the fabric sliding down your legs makes you almost delirious with arousal. He lets out a low, rumbling laughter at your lack of underwear, but makes no comment on it. As he removes your pants, his long talons brush against your hard, throbbing, twitching cock, and you let out a choked-off sound. 

Faintly, you hear yourself moan, a throaty sound easily rolling past your lips, and you turn your head back to rest it against the back of the confessional. 

“Good boy, obeying so easily and enjoying my ministrations so much. How much do you like it, how much do you want what you know comes next?”

You know that you speak, but it sounds like it comes from far away, like your mouth is full of cotton, or perhaps like you’re underwater.

“I want it so much, Father. Please, give it to me, I’m begging you, please.” The words seem slow and drawn-out to you, but they seem to appease the priest-turned-monster. 

At least if you are to judge by his next action - spreading your cheeks and audibly dropping to his knees. You know what comes next, and you can’t wait. You feel so needy, unable to hold back a keen whine. Then there’s something wet and warm against your hole, and you sigh in contentment, pushing back against the tongue. 

You haven’t been touched there in so long. You long for the monster to touch you more, to quench the overarching thirst in your heart and the dull ache between your legs. 

And Heavens yes, he does. His talons slide over your cock, the tips following the protruding and throbbing veins and making you see stars, warmth spreading throughout your body. 

You’re vaguely aware that you moan again, and there’s a low chuckle behind you before he speaks again. 

“You’re so hard, my sweet little child,” another jolt of arousal rushes through you, “I wonder how long you’ve been longing for me to touch you.”

“Forever,” you find yourself whispering, and your eyes fall shut; you can just barely hold yourself standing, so much pleasure washing over you. 

He chuckles again, a low and unexpectedly hearty sound that makes a wide, lazy smile drape itself over your face; you didn’t even know he could make such a sound. 

“Then how about I get a move on?”

You nod slowly.

“Yes, Father, please, I need you to fill me like only you can.”

“Who am I to deny a prayer so true and faithful?” 

Not two seconds later, the priest-turned-monster seizes your hip with one clawed hand while the other wraps around your aching cock, all the while his tongue rubs and wiggles against your hole. You sigh shakily and press your head against the back of the confessional, focusing on the wet sensation. 

It’s like being pulled in two directions - one hand bids you to drive forward into the creature’s hand while the tongue makes you want to push back. You’re torn between what to do, and instead stand still, simply panting and whining and moaning as the priest-turned-monster works you. 

Then, before long, you feel his tongue probe firmly at your hole, and you know what he wishes. So, you do your best to relax and allow him to push inside you. 

It’s a heavenly feeling - his tongue so warm and wet, worming its way deep inside you with saliva dripping down your thighs in heavy streams. It doesn’t take long before your body gets used to the intruding object, and the dull ache from being stretched turns into deep pleasure that courses through your body, heating your cheeks and commanding you to moan. 

The tongue grows wider and wider the further it’s pushed inside you, and then it starts thrusting, making you moan and whimper and clench your hands into tight fists. 

With saliva being smeared around your hole and being thrust deep inside you, it doesn’t take long before the priest-turned-monster pulls out again, and then you feel something thick and blunt being pressed against your hole. 

“Father,” you gasp and spread your legs wider, eager for him to continue. And continue he does; with a hint of resistance, he pushes deep inside you, and a throaty growl escapes him, only serving to make your cock bob and pre-cum leak down the shaft. 

As he enters you, you let out a pain-pleasure cry, and it morphs into a pained whine when he begins moving. You’re about to ask him to stop, to take it slow, but just as you open your mouth, the pain subsides to make way for pleasure. 

His cock is thick as a forearm, rough and ribbed, and is littered with small bumps and ridges. You can feel the tip is pointed instead of rounded like a normal human’s, and it hurts when he, with one sudden and deep thrust, slams home and bottoms out within you. However, in a flash, like snapping your fingers, pleasure is all you feel through the fuzziness of your mind; overwhelming euphoria and delight. 

“Oh Lord above, you feel good,” he snarls -  _ snarls! _ \- and rubs against you where you’re joined by the hips. So easily, as if working black magic, you feel his cock throb inside your tight hole, and you feel each little jerk and twitch. “You’re so tight, almost impenetrable.”

“Father!” you gasp and try to push back against him. You are eager--- no,  _ desperate _ for him to continue instead of just standing there, presumably observing you. Through the haze in your mind, you do know that if one hurried with this kind of penetration, it could hurt considerably, maybe even cause damage, but right now, you’re too far gone to care. 

You turn your head, a dazed, open-mouthed smile on your lips, to look at him, and you see his tail swinging from side to side. His face is one of utmost concentration as he begins thrusting properly, yet the toothy, dangerous grin remains in place. 

For a moment - a long, blissfully quiet moment - nothing happens. He just stands there, observing you, throbbing inside you, and the thought makes your heart race and your cock bob. 

Then, when he finally decides to move, he begins at a gentle and easy pace that has your heart aching and mind spinning in the best of ways. The pain returns as he moves, but quickly dissipates, leaving room for only the strongest and most heavenly pleasure. Soft, shaky moans escape you with each gentle thrust, and you close your eyes but open your heart. 

Your hole stretches to accommodate him, and it’s absolutely  _ perfect. _

Until he increases the pace to one that is faster and rougher. And even then, it feels so incredibly fantastic that you can’t stop moaning and whimpering, and although your hands are tied, and you have no control over what’s happening, you trust the priest-turned-monster. You have no choice, really - he has total control over you and the situation. 

That particular thought sends a shudder through your body, and you whimper loudly as your cock throbs. 

“Sweet, sweet child, can you even fathom your own tightness?” His voice is calm and steady, not revealing what he might or might not be feeling. 

“W-Well,” you gasp, each thrust jolting you and making it hard to speak, “I have o-only been with one man, n-not counting you!” Your voice is much less calm and steady, and definitely reveals that you’re overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through you. 

“ _ Good _ , because I am no man,” he grins and smacks your ass. The sound echoes in the confessional, not to mention the church as a whole, and forces out a loud, sharp moan that has you blushing  _ again _ . If nothing else this...  _ priest _ sure could get your blood flowing. Among other things. 

A man he sure isn’t, but that doesn’t stop his ministrations from being so arousing and amazing that you, for just a second, wonder if they could actually kill you. 

They don’t, of course, and you’re helpless in the face of so much pleasure. It doesn’t take long before a familiar tightness appears in your lower stomach, and you notice how quick and shallow your own breathing has become. 

It might be you have only been with a man once, but you know what pleasure is, and what it feels like.

This - this is it. 

The tightness in your lower stomach, the amount of sticky, warm pre-cum by your feet, the acceleration of your breathing. The cock pounding into your tight, holy ass like there’s no tomorrow, making your knees weak. The hand moving over your cock, nails dragging over the head and down your shaft, ending by your balls and squeezing them firmly, making you inhale sharply and then cry out in unadulterated euphoria when the orgasm crashes over you. It’s so strong, so powerful, that the priest-turned-monster has to keep you upright in order to keep fucking you. 

And fuck you he does. 

With his other hand in your hair, yanking your head back - in order to expose your throat and neck, you suspect - he sinks his sharp, serrated teeth deep into your neck. Immediately, you feel blood flowing, and you gurgle out something unintelligibly. 

A gasp then escapes you, followed by a rough moan as he sucks up the blood and licks over the wide expanse of your neck. His tongue is warm and wet, almost tender in its caress. 

For a few, wonderfully long moments, you feel light as a feather - then, the second you come down from your high, it feels like your entire body is replaced by a sack of lead. Had it not been for the priest, you would have slumped forward into the back of the confessional. As he  _ is _ there, however, you’re held up at an awkward angle, but your mind is empty enough that you don’t care. Not to mention that you’re so out of breath you can barely get a sound past your lips. 

Aftershocks of the orgasm subsiding, you become acutely aware of how rough and powerful the pace has become, how merciless and unforgiving, and a pain-laced manage to wrestle itself from your throat with each thrust. It also feels so good that you don’t know which leg to stand on, metaphorically. 

“F-Father, please, p-please, harder, faster,  _ anything _ ,” you beg stupidly, not even sure if he  _ can _ go any harder or faster, but as if with divine intervention, he actually obliges you, and with the sudden increase in power and speed, you swear to God it feels like you’re tearing in half.

Not that it’s a bad feeling, of course. 

“Sweet, sweet child, I’m going to come in you, fill you with my seed. Are you ready for that?” His voice doesn’t as much as quiver despite his ruthless pounding of your not-so-tight hole. 

“Yes, Father, please come in me, fill me with your cum!” 

“Filthy degenerate,” he growls, and with that, with that word, that insult, he comes. Hot and sticky cum is released deep inside you, and there’s so much of it that it immediately seeps out of you again. 

“Oh, that won’t do,” he snarls and keeps thrusting through his own high, as if desperate to keep his seed in your hole. 

You gasp loudly, even letting out pain-pleasure moans and cries as he fucks you through his orgasm. The last few thrusts are incredibly hard and fast before he finally slows down, giving you time to take a much needed breather. 

As he gradually stops moving, you start feeling the strain on your body. Trembling all over, your legs won’t hold you upright for much longer, and your hands are sort of tingling. Your breathing is coming in short and sharp, raspy puffs of air. 

The priest-turned-monster slowly, so very slowly, pulls out of you, and as he does, you feel the hot cum seep out and down your powerful, trembling thighs, making a shudder wreck your body. 

For a little while, there’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as the demon - whatever he is - tucks himself back in his pants and cassock, buttoning the buttons with swift and nimble fingers. He doesn’t bother dressing you again. 

When he speaks, it’s with a honeyed warm and soothing voice that seems almost too lovely to be true. You turn your head and see that the horns have disappeared, and so have the tail and long talons. His teeth are back to normal, you see, when he grins and leans forward to kiss you. 

As soon as his lips touch yours, the fogginess disappears from your mind, leaving you with a clear head. You eagerly kiss him back, your lips moving easily together as the kiss turns deep and passionate. 

“Heavenly Father, thank you,” you whisper, and the priest lets out a low chuckle, his teeth dragging over your lower lip. 

“You’re most welcome, my child.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
